I've Had Better
by whiskey-lullaby
Summary: JD develops a habit. Songfic.


Title: I've Had Better

Rating: PG13

This fic is based on Adam's song, by Blink 182.

This is a one-chapter story. I never update, so doing chapter stories for you guys would be a bad idea. This is…semi-dark. And might be a little OOC. So don't stab me. It would hurt. This has a drug addict in it but is no way copying the fanfic 'My Druggie'. That incident is just get JD's motive to exercise started. This is fast-moving. If I get the medical stuff wrong, I'm sorry. All reviews welcome. Kim does not exist in this story.

J.D. P.O.V.

My cell phone vibrated on my bedside table. I opened my eyes at looked at my alarm clock. 4:30 am. Who in the name of spongebobs uncle would be calling me at this hour? I flipped opened my cell phone.

"H-hello?" I asked sleepily.

"J-John?" It was my mother. I could tell from her stuttering that she was crying, hard. This jolted me right out of my half-asleepy-ness. Or whatever it's called. I sat up in bed.

"Mom? What's the matter?" I asked a tad bit frantically.

"Dan…H-he's gone."

"What do you mean he's _gone?"_

"He left. All the money I've been saving, I-its gone. He up in left. H-he was in trouble with s-some p-people."

"Some people?" I ask a bit more accusingly than I should of.

"He had been b-betting. I don't know. But he's gone. And I think he's in trouble."

Sometimes, all I need is a hug.

* * *

_I never thought _

_I'd die alone_

_I laughed the loudest, who'd of known? _

* * *

I walked down the hospital hallway with Turk. He was going on and on about how the gym he'd been going to was building up his muscle strength. He bragged about how he had more 'energy for Carla when he got home' if I knew what he meant. I damn well knew what he meant. I'm sure somewhere in the confines of Sacred Heart Todd was giving someone a high five. Still, a mental picture formed in my head of Turk standing in a WWE wrestlers outfit, lifting a shrieking, very-pregnant Carla over his head. But I wasn't thinking about what Turk was saying much. I was thinking about Dan. My mom begged me to come see her, but I had too much work to do. I told her I'd call her back the next day. Which would be today. I wasn't really planning to, though. I know it sounds like I'm being-

"Larissa!" I turned to face Dr. Cox. Yup, I'd grown accustomed to the whole girl name thing.

"Please, _please_ tell me you didn't give Mr. Youngblood a Demerol drip!"

Feeling rather irritated today, I responded, "I gave Mr. Youngblood a Demerol drip."

"Newbie, the man's a damn drug addict. I don't know which aliens forgot to remove your anal probe, but YOU DON'T GIVE A DRUG ADDICT THE DRUG HE'S ADDICTED TO. Now, is that enough? Or do I have to dumb it down to retard level?"

_Well piss a brick._ "Sorry, Sir." I leave.

On my way to Mr. Youngblood's room, I saw a rather buff intern with his arm around a gorgeous new nurse. He gave me a nod and a thumbs up. Good god. Not another Todd. Ha. That rhymed. Maybe I should work out. Go to a gym. That would be a good id-

"Hey! _Hey!_" I had reached Mr. Youngbloods room and didn't even notice.

"What can I do for you?"

"I'll tell you what you can do for me! Give me my damn Demerol. Some narcissistic asshole came in and told me to go somewhere else for my next fix!"

Dr. Cox. He could have told me he already stopped the Demerol. Anger built up inside me. I was so sick of his stupid little tests. I wasn't a newbie anymore. And I'm sick of that god-awful nickname. I blinked. Who the hell was I? I never let anger swell my stomach like this. I had a big lunch anyway. Getting off subject. If Dr. Cox knew my mood, he would go on a rant about PMS or something. I think he gets enough of that from Jordan.

"Hey! Idiot! Are you even listening?" Mr. Youngblood practically screamed.

"I agree with the 'narcissistic asshole' that told you to go somewhere else to get your next fix. Look at those tracks on your arms, sir. Do you expect anyone to believe you're not an addict?" Take that.

Next thing I knew, the guy was out of his bed. He ripped the IV out of his arm, and threw the pole at me. It knocked me on the side of the head, and everything went black.

* * *

_I trace the chord_

_Back to the wall_

_No wonder, it was never plugged in at all _

* * *

"Awww, I think Bambi's waking up." I heard Carla's annoying, mothering voice over me. Boy, I'm touchy today.

"Hey, C-carla. Wh-what happened?"

She looked down at me affectionately. I wish she would stop doing that. I wasn't a baby, god dammit!

"Mr. Youngblood, um, threw an IV pole at you. And knocked you out." I could tell she was trying hard to not laugh.

"Go ahead, Carla. I know it's funny that a drug addict hurled a pole at me. And it hit me in the head. Laugh all you want." Her concerned face contorted into one of anger.

"Fine, be that way. No one will be sponging your forehead today." She threw the warm sponge she'd been holding into the trashcan.

"Oh, Hannah. I'm so sorry about all of this. I should have never sent you in there alone." Dr. Cox, who had appeared out of nowhere, said in a fake-guilty voice.

I looked away from him. He laughed bitterly.

"Newbie, you weren't supposed to stand up to the scary-drug man if you don't know how to fight, an, IV pole." A laugh formed in his throat.

I'd had enough. I sat up, and got off the hospital bed.

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry Katherine," he said, in his fake-almost-crying voice, "don't walk away. Please, god, don't walk away. We were going to be together forever. I didn't mean to kiss her, I really didn't. I was telling the girl a secret and her lips just got in the way and I-

I choose to drown his ridiculous, yet brilliantly clever sarcastic rant out.

* * *

_I took my time_

_I hurried up_

_The choice was mine, I didn't think enough_

* * *

I sat on the couch in the empty apartment. Turk and Carla were out doing something that she enjoyed and he probably hated. But since he loved her, he would do anything. Bla Bla Bla. I stared at my cell phone, lying on the coffee table. It had rung about five minutes ago, and I knew it was my mother. I didn't pick it up. I didn't want to talk about Dan. I didn't want to talk about _anything._ I felt the bruise from the pole on the side of my face. Hurt like a mother. That's ironic. Hurts like a mother. I was avoiding my mother's call. Hilarious.

I chuckled to myself smugly. I turned on the television, and was lucky enough to catch a channel 25 wrestling match. Wow, those guys were so big and strong. Maybe I should join a gym. In this moment of rare inspiration, I picked up my cell phone and dialed zero.

An operator answered. I asked for the listing to Gold's Gym.

* * *

_I'm too depressed_

_To go on_

_You'll be sorry when I'm gone_

* * *

I'd signed up for a six-month subscription. My first night was tonight. I stood in the middle of the hall, having the same daydream I had about Turk yesterday only I was in the WWE outfit and was holding Gift Shop Girl over my head. Whoa, what made me think of her? She was married wasn't she?

Anyways.

That night, I headed towards the large building, my exercise bag slung over my shoulder. My pink furby was in there for good luck. I hoped it didn't go off while I was lifting weights. Those things used to scare the crap out of me when they'd go off at night in my college dorm room. Not that I had a large collection of them as a college student or anything….

When I walked into the gym filled with sweaty, big, strong men that I soon hoped to be, my eyes were set on the weight-lifters. I knew I shouldn't start out doing the hard stuff, I was a doctor after all, but all this pent-up anger that I'd been waiting to release and was released because of my frustration over Dan was pumping me up, and yeah, you get the point.

Within minutes, I was laying on the large cushion-thingy, my hands grasped tightly around the pole of the weight-thingy. Way to catch up on my vocabulary.

"Whoa, kid" says the guy next to me, a bald older man with tattoos all over his arms, "do you think you can handle that much?"

"Please," I snort, "I've been doing this for years."

I pushed the weight up, sending an enormous amount of pain shooting through my arms. It came back down on my chest, and I felt a terrible pain in my back. Pain shot through my legs. Oh God. I couldn't move. The tattoo guy came up to me, concern on his face.

"Kid, kid. Oh, god. Someone call 911." The pain was absolutely unbearable. I closed my eyes.

* * *

_I never conquered, rarely came_

_16 just held such better days_

_Days when I still felt alive_

* * *

I woke up in a hospital bed. I didn't feel anymore pain, but I knew it was just because of whatever pain medication they were giving me. If that wasn't the most obvious statement ever. I prayed to god I wasn't in Sacred Heart. An unfamiliar man in a white coat strolled through the door. Thank god.

"Hello, Mr. Dorian." He said blandly.

"Hey, man." I forced a smile. He looked at me strangely. Way to be cool, JD.

"Yeah. Well. It seems as though, you've herniated a disk. This means that-

My face fell. "I know what it means. I'm a doctor."

He raised his eyebrows, and nodded his head. "What hospital?"

"Sacred Heart." He nodded.

Soon, I was walking away from Burbank Hospital, a bottle of prescription Percoset in my hand. The first pill had really helped my back. But I knew it would hurt like hell in the morning.

Oh well.

* * *

_We couldn't wait to get outside_

_The world was wide, too late to try_

_The tour was over, we'd survived_

* * *

4 Weeks Later

"Katrina!" God. I turn around, facing Dr. Cox.

"Melony, are you done for today?"

I had been standing near the nurses station, avoiding my very vomit-y patient.

"Sounds like something Kelso would say.." I mumbled.

"What did you say to me newbie?" Cox growled.

"Nothing."

"Yeah. Just remember this, the next time you compare me to Robert Kelso, you'll never do it again. In fact, you won't be able to compare anyone to anyone else, because, honey bun, you won't even be able to speak. You want to know why you won't be able to speak? Because you'll be DEAD!"

He stares at me, breathing hard. And then I did something that I had never done before. Maybe it was because I was tired. Maybe it was because I still hadn't called my mother about Dan and guilt was twisting my stomach every second of every day. Maybe it was because I'd been so irritable since my incident at the gym. Maybe it was because of the flying monkeys I kept having nightmares about. But, deep down, I knew exactly what it was about. I needed my Percoset. I began to clap, just like Cox did on occasion.

"Amazing, Coxy. Just brilliant." I began to walk backwards, still clapping mind you, my eyes nervously searching for the nearest supply closet. I needed it now, dammit! NOW! I bumped into someone.

"Why don't you watch where you're going? Or do you not need to watch where you're going because I'm just a lowly janitor?" I did not have time for this crap right now.

"Listen, why don't you keep your insecure, idiotic, patronizing ass out of the way and then I won't have to watch where I'm going?" He gave me a look of surprise. I could say I was surprised myself. And then I saw that supply closet, and made my way towards it. Within a matter of seconds, I was in the secluded darkness, trying hard to get that stupid twisty cap off of the bottle. Damn those things. All of a sudden, the doorknob turned, startling me out of my frustration. The bottle cap popped off and the pills went flying everywhere. I dropped the orange bottle on the ground.

Dr. Cox gave me a look of disbelief and amusement, bending over to pick up the bottle, "I'm sorry I spilled your birth control pills, Piper, but-" He stopped short when he read the label.

"Percoset?"

I snatched the bottle away from him. He looked at me.

"I slipped a disk a month ago, okay? I need it for the pain." He just looked at me.

"Well, Carol, I don't think those bench presses are going to get rid of that baby-weight, so-

I wasn't listening. There were a few pills left in the bottle. Three. I poured them into my hand and popped them in my mouth.

Cox grabbed the bottle once again. "This says BID, newbie. That means take twice-a-day. How many did you take there, about 210?"

I closed my eyes. The irritability was no longer there. But, oh, shit. He's worried now. I didn't mean to worry him.

"Just, it's fine. Sorry, accidentally slipped an extra in there. Give it here." He dropped the bottle in my hands, rolling his eyes, and walked away.

* * *

_I never thought_

_I'd die alone_

_Another six months I'll be unknown_

_

* * *

_

I took a breath. I stared at my cell phone, lying menacingly on the kitchen table.

I knew I needed to call my mom. A mental image formed in my head, of my cell phone, enlarged greatly, with huge arms and legs and red eyes, screaming, "CALL HER! CALLLLLL HER! "

And so I did. This is basically how the conversation went:

Mom: Hello?

Me: Hey..Mom

Mom: JD! I'm so glad you called! I was wondering if something had happened to you.

Me: Well, yeah, it kinda did. I slipped a disk in my back, but I'm slowly healing. So what have you heard from Dan?

Mom: (a strangled sigh) Um, he called me. A few weeks ago.

Me: …and?

Mom: John, I think (starts to cry) I think h-he's a drug ad-dict

Me: _What?_ Why?

Mom: He was stuttering (sniffles) on the phone. Like, like a different person. He sounded strung out…he said he was sick, that he needed money quick.

Me: (stunned) Wh-where did he say he was?

Mom: I think he mumbled something about Chino, California. Oh, John…I wired him money god forgive me…

Me: how much?

Mom: Four-hundred dollars.

Me: I gotta go.

Mom: John, wait

Me: No. I just, I can't deal with this right now. Bye.

I heard her strangled cry as I snapped the phone shut. I sat there on the couch in utter disbelief, until a very drunk Turk and Carla burst through the apartment door. "Heyyy DJ!" Turk slurred, stumbling over Rowdy. Carla, in his arms, gave him a long passionate kiss. Just what I need. Yet another reminder I'm lonely.

"See you guys in the morning." I said solemnly, getting up to walk to my bedroom. When I heard the click of the door closing, a lump formed in my throat. I sat down on the bed. I felt a sheet of tears blur my eyes, and I blinked them back. I picked up my back pack which rested against the night table, digging around in it for a few moments.

I had 'personally' filled my prescription at Sacred Heart. I opened the bottle, dumped three or four in my hand, and pop into my mouth. I closed my eyes, laying back on the bed.

* * *

_Give all my things_

_To all my friends_

_You'll never set foot in my room again_

* * *

1 Week Later

"You mean- you mean- she's gone?" Mrs. Kline, mother of 14-year-old Jessica Kline, killed by a ketamine overdose, gasped over her tears.

"I'm s-sorry." I struggled to keep my emotions intact. She grabbed my arm, her knuckles turning white, breathing hard.

"Was there anything- anything that you-"

"No" my voice cracked, and I disguised it as a throat-clear. At that moment I felt my phone vibrating in the pocket of my scrubs. I knew it really wasn't allowed at work, but I had been calling my mother quite frequently during the week so she could vent about Dan.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Kline, but you'll have to excuse me." I ducked out of the room, as the 30 something woman went over to touch her daughter's pale, dead face.

* * *

_You'll close it off, board it up_

_Remember the time I spilled the cup of apple juice in the hall_

_Please tell mom this is not her fault _

* * *

"Hello?" I answered, low-voiced, on the last ring. I maneuvered my way quickly to a stairwell.

"J-j-john! Ohhhh. Oh God." My mom.

"What's wrong?" I replied, concerned.

"D-dan. He's…dead. He OD'd in a hospital just west of Reno. Heroin. They found his d-driver license and c-called me."

I slid down the wall, real tears blurring my vision. I couldn't breathe. I slid my hand inside the pocket of my scrubs, and grabbed my bottle. My savior. I dumped who-knows-how-many pills into my palm, and smashed them against my mouth, swallowing.

"M-mom?" I squeaked out in a tiny, pathetic voice.

"Yes John?"

"I've…gotta…go.." I choked on 'go' and snapped the phone shut. With a fear that she might call back, I turned it off. I made a mad dash up the stairs, until I hit the roof. The cool air hit my face as I walked to the half-barrier that kept us all from falling. Did I want to be kept from falling? I quickly sat on the edge of it, and swung my legs over so they were dangling. I was woozy. Tears were running down my face. I couldn't control it. I…just couldn't.

* * *

_I never conquered, rarely came_

_16 just held such better days_

_Days when I still felt alive

* * *

_

"Su-u-usie!" Dr. Cox. I didn't need him right now. I try to move. I can't. I'm dizzy. I'm dangling over a wall. I can't answer him. It's as if my throat closed up.

"What are you doing staring into the dark abyss of the hospital parking lot? Are you dreaming of your lost love, Carlos, that used to clean the pool?" I try to turn my head at his humorous speech. Are there tearstains on my face? I can't even tell.

I closed my eyes, and let out a shaky breath. "Kid, what are you doing?" I'm inching off the edge. But not on purpose. "JD!" I hear him yell, grabbing me around the stomach, and pulling me away from the edge. I'm sitting on the roof now, my long legs spread out before me.

Dr. Cox kneels down in front of me and grabs my shoulders. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?"

I choke on a sob, and stand up. "Nothing."

"It wouldn't be that truckload of Percoset I saw you shoveling into your bag three days ago, would it?"

"_Shutup. _You don't get it." I know my eyes are bloodshot. And I know that he knows.

"What don't I get, exactly? You're a brilliant doctor, Dorian, but you let the stress get to you, and decide that an addiction to pain meds is just something that will relieve it."

I gasp for air. "I have, p-problems of my own. And you should be one to talk about stress getting to you."

This seemed to burn him. "You know what, I wonder why anyone wastes time on you." He began to stalk away.

I feel tears blinding my vision. I feel my throat constrict. I can feel a sob coming. And out of completely nowhere, I called out, "Dan died."

Dr. Cox stopped in his tracks. He turned to face me. I turned away from him. _You idiot._

I can feel my shoulders shake, and I can just picture my mentor standing behind me, uncomfortably, running his hands through his hair. I make a strange sound, and grab the edge of the wall once again for support, watching the tears drip down my nose. I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't-" I tried to push him away.

He grabbed me again. And said in the softest voice he could, "JD, I'm sorry."

I want to run away. I jerk violently to keep from his grip, losing my balance and finding myself almost falling over this wall again. He grabs me around the chest, pulls me away, but in the process, whipping me around.

"Get….off…of…me!" I manage between sobs. He has his arm around my waist to keep me from falling. He lowers himself and I to his knees, grabbing my right forearm with his free hand.

"Calm down." He says in an eerie niceness. I jerk violently in his arms, causing me to choke on a cry, which results in a coughing fit.

And then Cox did something I would have never expected him to do. Using both his arms, he wrapped his arms around my body. That almost sounds like…a _hug._ But….no. Perry Cox doesn't hug. That's apocalyptic. All strange behavior aside, I'm basically coughing into his chest. All the pent up hurt is coming out now. All the things that the meds blocked out. And I need them more than ever. I gasp and heave, my face pressed into his shoulder. I feel my back being rubbed gently and I relax to just loudly sobbing into his lab coat.

"It's okay, kid. It'll be okay." There's something weird about his voice. It almost sounds strangled. He can't be about to cry. Surely my plight isn't that important to him. And in a great respect, I wrap my arms around his lower back, grabbing two fistfuls of the white material his coat is made of. I can't stop crying. I can hear myself. I'm sobbing so loud, it's embarrassing.

"Please.." I don't know what I'm begging for, but I can feel harsher, louder, cries building up inside of me. "I…can't…." I squirm, my breaths shorter. I feel a hand on my head. I can feel his grip tighten. He says nothing.

* * *

Finito. I always wanted this to happen. Very sad, and depressing, I know. I love JD/Cox hurtcomfort stories.

Please Review.


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